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This husband and I…
Stopped at the town…in the Hill Country…where he lived when he was little…not really a town anymore…the country store gone…along with the post office…the cotton gin…the house where Little Mr lived…replaced with a trailer… See this land…where the rain washed it downhill…he says…after a downpour…there would be run off like this…coming from under our house…we would run outside…and in the dirt we would find coins…Indian head pennies…buffalo nickels…Barber dimes… Story goes…the area was well traveled…by bad guys…shady characters…bank robbers…it was speculated…that perhaps an injured outlaw on the run…may have hidden his loot…somewhere…in the house…intending to retrieve it later…but as fate would have it…the bandit…succumbed to the injury…and was unable…to return for the goods… Could never find the source…but after that Papo of theirs put some of the coins away…excited little hands…would take their treasure…across the street to the old store…and buy…a piece of candy…nothing’s really changed…my Mr says…looking at what’s left of the town…through grown up eyes…rattlesnakes…dung beetles…the culvert where we played…the strong aroma…of the spring blossoms… Things change…but stay the same…buildings all but gone…but the essence…the soul…the spirit of the place… Still feels…like home… And that husband of mine…agrees…
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This Old Gal
Devoted Wife Magical Mom Retired Teacher Embracing life's grand adventures with humor and grace. Archives
June 2026
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